When the sh*t hits the fan

I had a great day at work on Friday.  Got lots accomplished, nothing too stressful going on.  We even celebrated a coworker’s birthday.  Until late in the afternoon, the busy weekend ahead, soon became the last of my worries.

The following is a time line of actual events (as I can remember them to the best of my ability) 

3:30pm  At the office

Starting to feel a little headachy.  I couldn’t be hungry, I had been eating all day.  Maybe it was the birthday cake that pushed me over the edge.  Note to self…stop eating so much birthday cake.  I put my head on my desk for a few minutes to stop the room from spinning.  No luck.

4:30pm  Leaving work to go home

Headache is worse and my stomach does a flip flop in the parking lot.  Oh, hell no!  I have way too much to do this weekend.  Christmas baking to finish, Christmas cards to make, a surprise party to attend.  I drive home as fast as I can.

5:00pm  Sitting at the diningroom table with my head down

By this time, I know…stomach flu.  Shit!  Well, hopefully not, but wow, my stomach was turning faster than the scrambler at the fair.  I was freezing cold, shivering and turning a very unusual shade of grey.  I prayed to be sick just to get it over with.  With my head on the table and the kids arguing over who is better (Star Wars or Harry Potter), I consider downing some gravol to stop the naseau until I can at least get them some dinner.  Gravol would definitely do the trick, but it will also put me into a coma.  Without another responsible adult here, who is going to put me in the recovery position if I pass out and choke on my own vomit?  These are the things I think about people!.  I decide…definitely no gravol.

5:30pm  The show must go on

No back up parent to make dinner, so into the kitchen I go.  Dizzy, sweating and on the verge of asking Hannah to just pour some cereal for her and her brother, I decide on macaroni and cheese.  Quick, easy, done.  Aside from the smell of it, I am doing alright.  Mac and cheese plated up, dishes left for tomorrow.  Little did I know then, that tomorrow would be spent in the fetal position on my couch.  While sitting at the table, I watched the kids load on the ketchup, slurping and stirring the offensive orange “dinner” until I really wanted to be sick.  It threw me right over the edge.

Ok…this could be it.  Up to the bathroom I run, half closing the door and prepare for the worst.  As I lay in a semi coma on the bathroom floor, with my head half in the toilet, my kids are out in the hall arguing.

“I am not going in, you go in.”  “No way, if she hurls, it’s going to smell like death in there.”  

So there they sat, not daring to come near me. 

This was when the questions/statements started coming.  I am not sure if they were trying to distract me, make me feel better or just kill me quickly.

“Maybe it’s PMS, not the flu.”  Yes, Hannah, it’s definitely PMS…see what you have to look forward to every month.

“What would affect my balance more…losing a baby toe or a big toe?”  Big toe

“Do you think we could go tobogganing when you feel better?”  No

“Santa is probably diabetic…I mean, his diet is so unhealthy.”  Yes, Hannah, the fat bastard is probably going to have a coronary on our front porch.  Break out the insulin and a digestive cookie for him.

“How come when I throw up, my macaroni comes out whole?”  Because you kids are animals and don’t chew your food.

“Are we still going to make Christmas cards this weekend?”  Yes

“Once I farted and I pooped in my undies a little.”  Once!  I have found more than one pair of “sharted” in undies stuffed under you bed.

“How do you spell Rudolph?”  a-s-s-h-o-l-e

“Are you going to die?”  Hopefully not today and hopefully not spread out on the bathroom floor.

“Are we still going to watch Christmas movies tonight?”  Yes

“How does Santa go to the bathroom on Christmas eve?”  He wears depends.

“What are depends?”  Diapers for grown ups.  (howls of laughter come from the hallway)

“When you come out of there, you should eat light.  That way your brain can send messages to heal your body instead of spending too much energy digesting.”  Thank you Dr. Oz.

I will be totally honest.  When I am sick with a stomach flu, I am a huge baby.  I can handle a cold/flu, migraine, a nail in the forehead, picking gravel out of an open wound, even other people’s barf…but when I am on the bathroom floor hoping for a quick death, I just want to be taken care of.  Even if it’s just moral support from the other side of the door and a box of tissue thrown in at me.

It sucks having no back up to count on when you’re sick. 

After gathering up the rest of my strength, I pull myself up, brush my teeth and snuggle in to watch Christmas movies with the kids.  They may not have given me moral support or thrown me some tissue, but they definitely made me laugh and that’s the best medicine.

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